


How Do You Say Threesome in Swedish?

by serenelystrange



Category: Leverage
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Humor, Leverage Secret Santa Gift Exchange 2019, M/M, Multi, Shopping, just really so much dumb fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27397321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenelystrange/pseuds/serenelystrange
Summary: Just a little happy day for the OT3! Because they deserve it.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer
Comments: 8
Kudos: 65
Collections: Leverage Secret Santa Exchange (Mod Gifts)





	How Do You Say Threesome in Swedish?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DelektorskiChick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelektorskiChick/gifts).



“That is the ugliest lamp I have ever seen in my entire life. We need it.”

Hardison and Eliot turn around from where they’re perusing the coffee tables to look at Parker and her new find.

“It’s…” Hardison starts, trying to decipher what exactly he’s looking at.

“I think it’s a…” Eliot tries, squinting at the offending lamp in confusion.

“Orange,” Hardison settles on. “It is very very orange.”

“Are those eyeballs?” Eliot asks, taking a step closer to try and figure it out.

“Yep!” Parker says with delight. “And look, there’s little pineapples, too! Isn’t it great?”

“We cannot put that in our house,” Eliot says.

“I’m 80% sure it’s cursed with at least 10 souls of the damned,” Hardison agrees.

Parker spins suddenly to glare at them both and points a finger menacingly.

“You try to stop me and I’ll get it anyway and put it right next to the bed.”

“You know,” Eliot says quickly, “Orange isn’t so bad. For the…”

“For any room that I don’t sleep in,” Hardison finishes, grinning over at Parker with what he hopes is a winning smile.

Parker beams at them. “Acceptable!”

“You think Nate’s still friends with that priest?” Hardison whispers to Eliot as they follow Parker around the store, the ugly lamp sitting menacingly in the cart that Eliot pushes.

Eliot just snorts.

“You’re not exorcising my lamp!” Parker calls back to them without looking around.

“Damn ears like a bat!” Hardison calls back.

Eliot just snorts again and continues to push the cart.

“El, look!” Hardison shouts, sprinting out of the middle aisle to dart down one of the linen aisles and grab a fluffy blue towel.

“Aw,” Parker says, looking up from the extensive paper store map for a moment to smile at Hardison’s find before going back to it.

“They’re just towels?” Eliot asks, reaching out to squeeze one in his hand. “They’re nice though, plush.”

Hardison rolls his eyes and smacks Eliot in the shoulder with one of the towels.

“They’re the exact same blue as your eyes, look!”

“Huh,” Eliot says, examining the towel a little closer. “Yeah, I guess they are.”

“Get ‘em all,” Parker calls out from where she’s wandered away into another aisle.

“On it!” Hardison yells back, ignoring the delightfully adorable way Eliot’s face is blushing red.

“Let me love you and your dumb gorgeous eyes,” Hardison says, sticking out his tongue at Eliot before tossing an armful of towels into the rapidly filling cart.

“ _Your_ gorgeous eyes are dumb,” Eliot mutters, absolutely not looking up and letting Hardison see his pleased smile.

“Thanks, boo,” Hardison says absently, already redecorating their entire bathroom in his mind.

Eliot just sighs at the nickname, but ultimately says nothing, still grinning internally about the towels.

“Ooh,” Parker coos, running her hands through a display of shag carpeting samples.

“Where would we even put it?” Hardison asks.

“It’d be a bitch to clean,” Eliot adds.

“It’s not orange,” Parker offers.

“We can get ONE,” Eliot counters, “and it can’t be bigger than a Christmas tree skirt.”

“That’s very specific,” Hardison says, snickering.

“Works for me,” Parker says, already digging through to find the perfect, non-orange, color.

“You didn’t pick out anything,” Parker says to Eliot after they’ve loaded the van up with all of their purchases. Her possibly cursed lamp is safely wrapped up in her less cursed but almost as ugly shag carpet.

“I picked out almost everything,” Eliot says. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat, key in the ignition but not yet turned. “I chose the kitchen sets, and the curtains, and the bedding, and even the trash bins.”

“But you didn’t choose anything fun,” Parker says, gesturing to her lamp/rug pile. “Even Hardison got that awful polka dot dog statue.”

“You leave Fluffy out of this,” Hardison says from where he’s buckling said statue into the backseat securely.

“I chose you two, didn’t I?” Eliot says, before turning on the van and turning up the radio before either of them could tease him for his burst of sappiness.

That doesn’t stop Parker from leaning over to pinch his cheek and then plant a loud kiss on the mark she left.

“I like the sheets,” Hardison says later that night. “This comforter is cozy as hell, too. But where are you all gonna sleep?”

“I’ll sleep on your grave!” Parker yells, before taking a running leap and somehow landing neatly on the bed astride Hardison.

“Dark,” Hardison says, chuckling.

“It’s got good bounce,” Parker says, testing out the mattress by essentially doing squats an inch above Hardison’s crotch.

“Mmhm,” Hardison says, eyes absolutely not on Parker’s braless breasts under her pajama shirt.

“I leave you for five minutes to put some of the things away, and you’ve started without me?” Eliot asks, leaning against the door to their bedroom with an amused look.

“We haven’t started anything,” Hardison says, eyeing Parker’s hips warily. “Parker is just trying to crush my balls, apparently.”

“Am not,” Parker says, settling down slowly so she’s sitting flush against Hardison rapidly responding dick. "It’s not Tuesday.”

“Jesus, Parker,” Hardison says, his breath catching as she pulls off her top and then starts a slow and gentle grind against him.

“Looks like starting to me,” Eliot drawls from the doorway.

“Well take off your shirt and ge… wait,” Hardison pauses, suddenly smirking. “That’s my shirt.”

Eliot looks down at the faded Batman tee he’s wearing and shrugs.

“Well, look at that,” he says, smirking right back.

“On second thought,” Hardison says, “keep it on.”

Parker squeals with delight as Eliot pretends to tackle her, and loops his arms around her from behind, pressing her down and even closer to Hardison.

“Someone should kiss me now,” she says, sighing happily when Hardison immediately kisses her mouth while Eliot presses his lips into the curve of her spine.

They forget about the rest of the stuff still waiting to be put away, but can’t bring themselves to care.

“You feeling waffles?” Hardison says the next morning, still looking down at his phone as he comes out of the bathroom back to the bedroom.

Parker just moans softly in response, gripping Eliot’s long hair as his head moves between her legs.

“Not sure that counts as breakfast,” Hardison says mildly, as if he isn’t three seconds from sticking his hand down his pajama pants. God, he loves weekends.

“We’ll get brunch after,” Parker says breathily, thighs clamping around Eliot’s head as she comes.

Eliot looks up at her with a satisfied grin. “Best breakfast there is.”

“I dunno,” Parker says, still catching her breath. “Bacon is really good.”

Eliot laughs and pulls away to lay down next to her, his dick hard and heavy against his thigh.

“You just gonna jerk off?” he asks Hardison, “or do you wanna come over here and fuck me before brunch?”

Hardison pulls his hand away from his pants, looks over to his lovers, and grins. Brunch can wait.

The End


End file.
